


And I'm here

by bluelovesstuff



Category: Cow Chop (YouTube RPF), The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Brett is the best friend, Domestic Fluff, James Wilson Has Nightmares, Kinda, M/M, Mugging, Not Beta Read, Open to Interpretation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fic, Vomiting, drugs and alcohol are bad kids, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelovesstuff/pseuds/bluelovesstuff
Summary: I won't survive this, he thinks as the blood continues to flow out of the wound and his vision grows hazy.I might die here on this dark street, alone.But he isn’t alone, not really. Not with James’ voice in his ear and the same night sky above him a few miles away.“I’m here.” Aleks lets out a watery laugh, “Always, James.”





	And I'm here

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. They phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.
> 
> This fic takes place in an slight AU where everything is the same Cow Chop wise, but Aleks and James have been in an established relationship for however long you want to interpret it. There’s a lot of things in this fic you can interpret for yourself, like the ending, which I’ll explain in the end notes, so do so as you wish.
> 
> The title is from the song _[And I'm here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ROqBFXHd8o)_ by Kim Kyung Hee from the _Goblin OST_. Give it a listen, it’s a really emotional song. I had it on repeat on Spotify for the sessions I’ve been writing this. The K-drama is also really good, so yeah.

The buzz of his phone against the desk pulls his eyes away from the monitor. Rubbing at them with the heel of his hand, Aleks saves the email he was writing as a draft and pushes away from his desk. He doesn’t chance a look at the clock mounted on the wall to his left. Knows he’s been sitting, frowning over complicated business _shit_ for about three hours.

 

He’s stalling and he’s known to stall when he’s antsy or nervous.

 

What he allows himself to do is take a glance at his phone, where a blinking reminder set a week ago to pick up groceries for dinner for tonight has surfaced itself. In acknowledging the reminder also comes the fact it’s currently _5:48 p.m._

 

The plan was to have a dinner date here, in his own home, at seven.

 

There wasn't time to get groceries today with his busy recording schedule at the warehouse, but grocery stores are usually too packed for his liking when he gets off work anyway.

 

He pops his back with a sigh, slips on a jacket, and a pulls on a pair of shoes before making his way down stairs. Mishka bounds down the carpeted steps with him and he smiles down at her.

 

“You want a bone to work on before I go, don’t you?” He asks in his _Mishka_ _voice_ , already slipping into the kitchen cupboard to grab her a treat.

 

She sits patiently on the kitchen tile, tail wagging in anticipation, as Aleks bends down to give her the bone. They exchange a look before Mishka licks her lips playfully and tries to bite the treat from his hands. She fails, of course, as Aleks laughs and plays with her momentarily before allowing her to grab the bone from his hand.

 

She runs off in the direction of the living room carpet, her favorite spot to chow down when Aleks isn’t home, and he rolls his eyes affectionately before grabbing his keys and heading out to the garage door.

 

* * *

 

Though disappointment resonates when the store doesn't have his _one_ signature pasta sauce he needs for tonight, he’s told by the cashier as he makes small talk that the little shop and deli down the street might have it. Aleks thanks her gratefully and gathers his groceries in bunches as he exits the store.

 

He checks his watch, which he _hasn’t_ been doing every five minutes in the grocery store _anxiously_ whatsoever, and quickens his pace to his car as he sees it’s _6:23_. The sun has already finished setting as he loads the groceries into his back seat.

 

He wants tonight to be perfect. It has to be. He knows he’s going over the top with home-cooking a family -- _ahem,_ 5-star online -- recipe with a nice, _expensive_ wine he asked Brett to help him pick out in advance, but it’s a special night and he’s usually not the one to do stupid _shit_ like this so it’ll be all the more of a surprise.

 

The combo shop and deli the cashier mentioned is only ten minutes from his house and is in a lineup of similar small restaurants and window stores. He has to park a distance away in a small pay by the hour parking lot due to how small the street actually is, but doesn’t mind the extra exercise with the mild May weather and streetlamps lining the road.

 

Within minutes, he reaches the shop and deli, inquires the man behind the counter about the sauce, and follows him to the aisle where it’s located.

 

The man smiles at him, as if he detects Aleks’ nerves in his bones, and claps him on the shoulder, “The most romantic thing you can do for the person you love is show them you care. It’s the little things, like cooking dinner or giving them a phone call, that show them that heart.”

 

As the shop owner scans the sauce, he asks what the special occasion is and Aleks tells him briefly of his plan for the dinner. The man’s eyes light up and he waves his finger as if telling him to wait as he runs to the back of the shop.

 

Aleks glances again at his watch impatiently as he waits for the man to reappear so he can get back home to cook dinner, but finds he can’t stop his eyes from softening at what the man holds out for him to take.

 

It’s a bouquet. Bright, red roses wrapped in parchment and tied hastily with a string.

 

Aleks shakes his head in polite refusal, already opening his mouth to deny the gift, but the man beats him to it.

 

“No, no take them! It's free of charge for the special night. Roses from my wife’s garden in the back. _Twelve_ , to be exact.” He gives Aleks a pleased grin as he reluctantly takes them, “The lucky number of staying with a person for the rest of one’s life.”

 

 _The rest of one’s life?_ Aleks swallows at the statement, eyeing the flowers before handing the man exact change for the sauce and tilting his chin down in farewell, “Thank you, it means a lot. Have a good night.”

 

The man waves him out and wishes him good luck.

 

As Aleks makes his way back to his car, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and takes it out to see a teasing text about being nervous regarding his cooking skills. He rolls his eyes, but feels the corners of his mouth pull up helplessly into a smile as he replies.

 

Seconds later, a picture appears containing a thumbs up and a package of off-brand stomach relief medicine set on a familiar desk.

 

He laughs and comes to a stop to type out an offended reply as he nears the parking lot.

 

He almost presses send. His thumb ghosts over the bold, blue text.

 

It idles at the sound of shuffling to his left behind another car. He squints despite the streetlight directly above him and takes a step forward.

 

There’s a moment to blink before a shadow runs out from the opposite side of the car, directly behind him. Aleks can only turn around to look the figure in the eye and catch the glimpse of the shine of a kitchen knife before it’s too late. He takes in a breath, roses scattering onto the pavement and glass jar of sauce shattering onto the ground, before he feels it.

 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” the figure whispers, his voice croaked and watery and filled with regret. “I had no  _choice_.”

 

Aleks chokes out a harsh breath as the knife tears straight through his abdomen. It tingles with electric shocks, _burns_ with a heat he’s never felt unless he’s touched a hot stove, and he uselessly tries to push the figure away to no avail. He feels something warm and damp pool against his skin and clean t-shirt.

 

The figure, a pale _boy_ who appears no older than him, holds Aleks’ shoulder in place as he twists the knife, deeper as it rotates, and lets out a ragged breath as he shakily reaches for Aleks’ wallet and car keys in his pocket. Aleks’ eyes, unfocused and flickering in panic, notice the boy’s loose jeans with dirt staining the ankles and scuffed up sneakers.

 

Aleks stumbles and collapses onto the ground, trying to support himself upright with wide eyes as his fingers hover and dance around the knife embedded in his abdomen. It doesn’t feel like reality, the blood trickling onto the pavement and the nauseating taste of copper traveling up his throat.

 

He realizes there’s no one around to help him as he leans back against the side of a cold, unknown car.

 

“Shit, shit.” He wheezes out, his hands, _his body_ , shaking as he hears his car start up and peel out of the parking lot.

 

He watches, his eyesight blurring as he turns his head, his black Camaro driving past him slowly. The boy is watching him through the window, shaking his head before he makes a sudden acceleration and speeds down the road.

 

Aleks lets out a cry as he tries to shift in place, the knife moving inside him. He sits there for a few beats, not believing the constant throbs of pain traveling through his body, yelling at him to do _something_ , to move, to call for help.

 

“Hello? Is someone there?” He yells, wincing as the action slides the metal against him from his intake of breath. “ _Someone help!_ Anyone?”

 

He feels frustrated tears gathering in his vision and his head falls to his chest, breathing out a whimper to someone out there, “Fuck- c’mon, god, _please_. Help me.”

 

Memories flash of his high school biology teacher filling a Ziploc with water and poking a pencil through it; suddenly he sympathizes with the bag. From the many crime investigative shows he’s watched and simple _common sense_ , he knows he shouldn’t pull the knife out or else he’d bleed out even more than the flow already gathering on his stomach and shirt.

 

He eyes his phone atop the sidewalk pavement along with his grocery bag and scattered cluster of roses. He has to call for help; a single car hasn’t passed him. He needs to get to his phone to call _911._

 

He grits his teeth, crying out as he pivots around to pull himself backwards towards the sidewalk. It’s only a few feet, not even three, but it’s a mile with the piercing sensation still reverberating throughout his front. More blood soaks his shirt and he squeezes his eyes shut as he notices he’s leaving a winding trail as he pulls himself backwards.

 

When he finally reaches the phone, he collapses onto his back, shuts his eyes with a shuddering breath, and wipes away the streaks of tears staining his face. Turning his head, he reaches with fumbling hands for the phone and calls _911_. He hasn’t dialed the number since his neighbor had a break-in back a year or so.

 

His phone reads _7:15_ when he unlocks it. Aleks turns his head to look up at the night sky with few stars in it as the phone rings.

 

A man immediately answers after two rings.

 

“ _911, what’s your emergency?_ ”

 

Aleks’ throat, dry and thick with panic, does its best to allow him to respond, “I need help. Someone stabbed me walking to my car- They took my wallet and keys.”

 

“ _Where are you, sir?_ ”

 

Aleks tells him the street in a daze and the parking lot surroundings.

 

“ _What’s your name, sir?_ ”

 

Aleks gives him his full name.

 

“ _Are you badly hurt, sir? Can you stay on the phone with me? I need you to stay on the phone with me until emergency services arrive at your location._ ”

 

Aleks glances down at the knife in his stomach and a realization dawns over him.

 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” Aleks says with a numbness, hanging up the phone as the operator again insists he stay on line with him until the ambulance arrives.

 

Aleks holds his phone up to his face, the blue screen blinding even under the streetlight, and taps the name in his most recent contacts. The last time he’d called them was that morning to ask if they wanted breakfast before he got to the warehouse.

 

The line rings and Aleks stares at the night sky once again until it picks up.

 

James’ clear voice makes him clench his fist resting on the concrete and he tries to muffle the harsh breath that rises in his throat.

 

“Hey, I know, I know. I’m an _asshole_ for being late for dinner, but I had to make sure I scheduled a video to upload before I left. I’m on my way right now.” There’s a smile in his voice and Aleks can hear the sound of his turning signal ticking in the background.

 

Aleks presses his lips together and smiles to himself, trying to make his voice not as ragged as it did with the operator, “Yeah, no, you’re fine. I’m almost done making dinner. I was making sure you were okay, is all.”

 

James’ tone turns teasing and Aleks _mutes the phone_ as his abdomen throbs suddenly, causing him to groan in pain, “You’re worrying about me, Aleksandr?”

 

 _Aleksandr_. He hasn’t called him that in a while. The last time James used the entirety of his name he was scolding him in _that_ tone off camera for a stunt he pulled in the warehouse. Blinking away the memory, he inhales to catches his breath, but doesn’t unmute the phone as he pushes himself upright and pulls himself towards the streetlamp directly next to him to rest against.

 

“Aleks? Hey, you still there?”

 

He unmutes the phone and stares at the puddle of blood he left in his wake. _Shit_ , he hopes the huge artery near his stomach wasn’t punctured. Maybe his spleen or liver, if he’s lucky.

 

 _I won't survive this_ , he thinks as the blood continues to flow out of the wound and his vision grows hazy. _I might die here on this dark street, alone_.

 

But he isn’t alone, not really. Not with James’ voice in his ear and the same night sky above him a few miles away.

 

“I’m here.” Aleks lets out a watery laugh, “ _Always, James_.”

 

He licks his lips, the other end of the line is silent for a moment, and he takes the opportunity to quietly spit out his first bit of blood onto the sidewalk. Letting out an unexpected, harsh and wheezing cough, the gore splatters sickeningly onto the pavement. He misses the abrupt intake of breath James takes at the sound.

 

“ _Jesus Christ_ , you sound terrible. Are you all right? I’m about to pull onto your street. Should I pick up some meds before-”

 

Speaking hurts and each breath is a kick to his wound, but he doesn’t care anymore. He needs to tell him before he loses the opportunity to do so.

 

“You know I love you, right?”

 

James makes a sharp sound, as if air was stolen from him, “Fuck, _Aleks_ \- What?”

 

Aleks swallows down his previous anxieties because he’s _bleeding out_ and _goddammit_ James deserves to hear this. All of it. All of what he’s been practicing to Mishka on evening walks and thinking over as he falls asleep at night in an empty bed with empty space James could easily fill.

 

He’d steal all the covers, subconsciously of course, and Aleks would tug it back in his own sleep state until one of them woke up and shifted closer to appease the other. Aleks would probably get him hooked on having a protein shake in the morning. They’d take turns on who drives to work; he could already picture James’ maniacal laugh about finally use the carpool lane every day. They’d go out for a quick dinner together after work or order _Postmates_ for a night in. And they’d finally retire to bed, with all their collective pets taken care of, and talk quietly about their day and what changes they want to make for _their_ future.

 

For a _family_ , maybe. . . dogs and cats and new additions.

 

“I know I haven’t told you that yet, seriously at least, but I want you to know that- I’ve always fucking loved you, James. I hated it sometimes, but you just do that shit; make me love you even when it’s not the most convenient or easy thing. I’m _shit_ at expressing it because I can never get the words right and there’s always something in the way like work or we’re stressed or I’m too much of a jerk to say it, but I do. I wanted to at least tell you that.”

 

“Hey, _hey_ , slow down. I- What are you. . . Come outside, I’m here.”

 

Aleks breathes in, “All right, I’ll be down in a bit. Just wait for me outside.”

 

There’s the sound of a car door shutting on the other line, along with the metal clicks of the James no doubt unlocking his front door with the spare Aleks gave him a few months ago when he moved into his new place. _For emergencies only_ , he had told him jokingly, when in reality he was always hoping for the older to show up unannounced as if in a dream.

 

“I’ll just use the extra you gave me. Are you upstairs or something? I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” James says, a nervous edge in his voice.

 

He left the house dark with only a few lights on in the living room and kitchen, expecting to be _home_ after his trip. Mishka's bark echoes through the phone at James’ entrance, and _oh_. . .  Aleks will  _miss_ her so much. He hopes James doesn’t mind taking care of her and Celia; hopes she doesn’t cause him too much trouble when she realizes he'll never comes walking back through the door again.

 

But James’ voice is wary, and Aleks can see his frantic eyes and tense brow as he searches the house; as he goes into the kitchen to find it empty and dark.

 

“I. . . I thought you said you were almost done making dinner,” James trails off to no doubt search the house for him and Aleks bites his cheek to keep himself letting out a sob again as he’ll never find him there. “Where are you?”

 

Aleks lets out a breath, ignoring the question, “I would tell you that, tonight, that I love you. I would ask if you wanted to move in together, in my place-”

 

“ _Would?_ Aleks, fuck- please, _Jesus_ , where are you?” His voice raises, a mock threat to his tone Aleks recognizes as desperation kicking in.

 

“They say. . . I’ve heard people say it’s just like going to sleep, in the movies at least, and they might be right because I feel so tired, James.” He notices exhausted trails of tears drying down his cheeks and he feels so physically and emotionally _drained_ all of a sudden.

 

James makes a choked noise and there’s the sound of a door slamming followed by the ignition of a car. Aleks can hear ambulances or maybe fire trucks, he doesn’t know. There are sirens and lights only one or two streets over, peeking from the tops of the buildings around him. There is no choice but to shut his eyes as his head pounds heavily with a headache and feels light all at once.

 

Aleks is then torn between telling James where he is, at the miracle of him being at his side in the blink of an eye, or not telling him only to spare him from the _last sight_ of his boyfriend being him bleeding out helplessly on a sidewalk.

 

“Are those _sirens_? Where are you? Tell me right now, damn it! I’m coming to get you. _Aleksandr_. Fuck- are you okay?”

 

A fire truck finally makes its turn down the street, flanked by an ambulance and two police cars.

 

“You love me, right James?” Aleks says in a quiet, slurred voice, because James _hadn’t said it back_ to him. “I was goin’ to make a dinner for us and everyth’. ‘Was goin’ to say t’ was a family recipe, but it wasn’.”

 

The phone slips from his hand and falls to rest beside his ear. He turns his face to stare at the _James_ displayed so simply on the screen.

 

A figure stepping out a closed retail store across the street opens the door at the sound of sirens, only to gasp and run across the street at the sight of Aleks sprawled in the parking lot. She runs to Aleks’ side, but he pays her no mind as he waits for James’ reply. He doesn’t feel her hand gently brushing his hair from his face, where blood has somehow smeared onto his cheek and jaw from his fingertips and lips.

 

Doesn’t hear her steady words of panicked reassurance as he blearily waits to hear James return his blatant and _vulnerable_ reveal of affection.

 

The ambulance pulls to a halt in front of him and it fills Aleks’ minimal vision with blinding red and blue as he squints his eyes open. Figures run out from the vehicles, setting medical packs on the ground and pulling a stretcher out from the back of the ambulance. He’s beginning to only see blurs and outlines, no details in their faces and no comprehension of what they’re saying as they kneel over him.

 

James’ shaky voice pulls him back into reality though, as it always does.

 

“ _I love you too, Aleksandr._ ” It sounds as if he’s crying, Aleks registers through the fog, and he instinctively tilts his head closer to the speaker as James continues with a rough voice. " _Shit_ \- I’m yours, always fucking was and always will be. ‘Everything I was looking for I found in you, so don’t you. . . _leave_ without me.”

 

Aleks gives a slow nod to the phone in response and smiles before directing his gaze back up to the clear night sky.  

 

“Aleks, I’m here. _Please_ , wait for me.”

 

Then, there are gentle arms grabbing at him and he gives a weak shove out of desperation to stay by the phone. He has to wait for James because _he told him to wait for him_. He can’t leave without him; without seeing him at his side. The faces around him are nothing but blurs of dark and delayed movement. He barely registers the hands shifting him onto a stretcher and strapping him securely into place. He surrenders out of exhaustion as they fasten an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

 

In their calm storm of transporting Aleks into the ambulance, the response team disregards the blinking phone abandoned on the concrete.

 

“I love you, James.” He breathes to himself only, giving into the warmth and comfort welcoming him into its dark peace somewhere beyond his mind.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_\- 5 years later -_

 

James thrashes against the confines of the sweat soaked sheets around him. His brow holds a deep crease and his lips move in a quick flow of undeveloped words. He grips the sheets and pulls them closer to him. His breath suddenly turning harsh as his face crumbles in pain and he curls in on himself.

 

He lets out a desperate yell against the mattress before his eyes fly open and he stumbles up from the bed and onto the carpeted floor with a _thud_. He scrambles away from the room’s unfamiliar surroundings until he’s flat against a wall for a few moments. Pressing his shaking hand against his heaving chest, he pants out in shuddering breaths before staggering onto his feet and making a dash through the bedroom door.

 

“I’m going to make it- I gotta get there. . . Fuck, I gotta- hurry, hurry. I can make it. Make it to him, _he’s waiting for me_.” He utters breathless as he trips around the dark house and grips the wall corners and unseen furniture for support.

 

His feet give an unexpected slide as he races across a shadowed kitchen and his arm snags on the table’s edge as he falls to his knees. He lets out a groan of pain, but doesn’t inspect the damage as he grabs one of the wooden chairs as he quakes to pull himself up.

 

Stabilizing himself with each grasp on the backs of the chairs, he bolts to the sliding glass door. He pushes at the door with unfocused hands before finally shoving it aside and staggering onto a wooden back porch and an expanse of dark, desert outdoors. With slowing steps he glances around before catching the distant shine of a parked car in the reflection of moonlight.

 

Bare feet meet warm, dusty dirt as he descends the porch’s steps to reach the garage across the insignificant land.

 

“I’m here. . . _I’m here_. I’m coming to get you- Christ, please- _Wait_. Wait for me.” He murmurs to himself as he sprints to the vehicle.

 

Dirt turns into a smooth concrete driveway. There’s only about a hundred feet between him and the car. He’s going to make it in time. He'll stop him from going grocery shopping; stop him from going to the little corner store. They'll have dinner at his place instead; even if it consisted of shitty take-out on the couch.

 

He cannot hear anything but the pounding of his heart and blood in his ears. The raggedness of air leaving his lungs. The slamming of his soles against the concrete. The whispers of _confidence_ , of _reassurance_ , to himself.

 

He cannot hear the concerned voice screaming his name from behind, racing to get to his side from across the yard.

 

He can only hear the sound of _spattering blood_ and _sirens_ and a woman _crying_ and emergency medical technicians _shouting_ commands and the _deafening_ sound of a _flatlining_ heart-

 

And white noise, static _silence_ as the ambulance drove away and left him _yelling_ in his car for something, _anything_.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But something anchors him back to the solid ground under his feet. A firm touch, a pull and a squeeze, of his trembling hand at his side. He doesn’t realize he’s come to a standstill a few feet away from the car until he feels the warmth in his palm and fingers. His head hangs, his eyes wide and his mouth parted as he takes in gulps of air, as he stares at the ground. He’s covered in sweat and he feels faint, as if someone has given him some type of cloudy anesthesia in his veins.

 

“ _James_.”

 

His head clears as he turns to look at the owner of the voice.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_Brett has to hold him back when he tries storms his way through the emergency room to get to the operating wing. The older man wraps his arms around James’ writhing frame in the eerie waiting room full of pitiful eyes before the younger man falls limp in his arms. Lindsey appears disheveled beside them, eyes red and teary, and Brett releases him as he falls into her arms numbly._

 

 _“I can’t get back there. I can’t see him because I’m not_ family. _They won’t let me see him. See if he’s all right.” James whispers with a blank stare as he leans down into her shoulder._

 

_His hair is falling out in pieces from its pristine bun he had placed it in hours ago for their dinner date. He’s still wearing the nice dress shirt Aleks bought him last Christmas because he thought the dark blue color looked good on him. The run from across the hospital’s parking garage has his dress shoes scuffed._

 

 _Lindsey exchanges a look with Brett. Minutes later, Brett is still fuming with the check-in desk as he states that man is his_ partner _and his closest form of family relation in the state of_ goddamn _California._

 

_Hours later, after staring at the turning clock on the wall and gripping unfinished cups of coffee, a nurse calls for them as she enters the room from the operating wing._

 

_“Patient Aleksandr Marchant?”_

 

_James has never leapt from a chair and made his way across a room so fast in his life._

 

.

 

.

 

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.

 

_The police find the boy who did it less than twenty-four hours later._

 

_They find him in Aleks’ car out of gas about a hundred miles off on a deserted dirt road. He tries to fight the officers, tries to run away, but they get him cuffed and shoved in a cell at the station within an hour. He pleads innocent and says he only needed the money to buy his weekly dose of drugs and alcohol._

 

_And James wants to kill him._

 

_He does, truly. He’s never burned so rageful, so wild with brutality._

 

 _Never felt the urge to do something like that, kill another human being with family and friends and dreams in life, but there’s something deep inside him, instinctual, that wants to even out the scale. An eye for an eye. He wants this kid to fucking_ understand _what Aleks felt when he twisted that fucking_ butcher knife _into him._ _What it feels like to discover someone attempted to kill your partner over something so insignificant._

 

_He wants to be the one to do it._

 

_Brett says Aleks wouldn’t want him to talk like that. James swallows down the vengeance inside himself for the sole purpose._

 

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.

 

_The investigators assigned to Aleks’ case tell James he isn’t obligated to watch the surveillance camera footage of the incident to testify in court against the accused. Multiple store security cameras caught the crime from multiple angles. There’s enough physical evidence, they say, for him to not even appear in court._

 

_They say it could be traumatic for him to see his partner mutilated in such a way._

 

_James pulls out a chair in their office and watches as the first video of Aleks strolling down the street lamp illuminated sidewalk begins._

 

_He watches as the coward of a child hides behind a car, knife in hand, waiting for Aleks to approach him before jumping him from behind._

 

 _Watches as he shoves an unforgiving knife nearly to the_ hilt  _through Aleks’ vulnerable flesh._

 

_He’s fuming as he watches the boy peel out in Aleks’ car._

 

 _James has to cover his mouth with his hand, slumping forward in his chair out in anguish, as he watches Aleks collapse onto the ground. His eyes strain as he takes in a helpless Aleks_ crawl _towards his phone on the sidewalk. He nearly shoves away from the desk as he watches Aleks groan in pain, call out for help, and struggle in the darkness alone._

 

_The only reason he remains is to watch Aleks’ low resolution face as he speaks to him on the phone; as he mutes the phone to spit out blood or moan into his fist so James wouldn’t hear him in such pain._

 

 _It pains him physically, somewhere low in his chest and he has to wrap his arms around himself to calm it, to see Aleks shove and push at the EMTs as they try to take him away from the phone, from_ him _. It delivers a sickening blow to his stomach to see a half-unconscious Aleks reach out in vain to bring the phone with him in the ambulance._

 

_James hurries out of the room when the video displays the ambulance pulling away and a leaving a pool of blood in its wake._

 

_He heaves and retches in the men’s bathroom down the hall; the little hospital food lunch he ate not thirty minutes ago leaving an awful taste in his mouth._

 

 _The investigators give him some water and aspirin and tell him to_ “head home, son" _, but instead he pulls out the same chair and watches the scene six more times from different angles._

 

 _In the end, the boy gets the state of California’s sentence of first degree_ attempted murder _and_ seventy years _in federal prison._

 

_James still doesn’t think its enough._

 

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“ _Aleksandr._ ”

 

Everything slows down when he looks at Aleks standing before him. _Unharmed_. Eyes clear and gazing back at him. He has a flush on his face as if he’s been running and has what appears to be plain pajamas pants on. His hair is back to its short, natural brown and falls flat against his forehead.

 

James remains frozen in all ways but one as he reaches out to press a shaking hand against Aleks’ bare, tattoo covered chest.

 

When he becomes hesitant as his fingers ghost over the skin, mere centimeters away, Aleks guides it home with a gentle hand on his wrist; as if he’s done this before. James takes a sharp inhale of breath at the solid state of him, as if he expected him to flow away like dust with the wind.

 

Aleks smiles and it’s a closed smile, a reassuring one, that meets his eyes, “ _I’m here, James_. I’m really here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

James face crumbles at his voice and he nods absentmindedly before taking another step forward to run his hands along Aleks’ bare arms.

 

Aleks steps closer to him and breathes out in a light voice, “I’m real, James.”

 

James looks at him in the eye, still unsure of whether _this_ Aleks will dissolve away in his grasp as so many of them have in his dreams, before scanning him up and down.

 

His eyes stutter and widen on the sizable scarred gash on his abdomen. Aleks allows his hands to press against the ruined and still healing tissue and seizes the moment to run his hands through James’ lose hair as it falls unbound around his face.

 

“You were having another one of your nightmares, James. You’re _home_. _We’re home._  I’m safe. I’m here.” Aleks repeats like a mantra as James looks back at him with clearer eyes.

 

Those clearer eyes catch the small silhouettes of dogs behind them. How had he not noticed their whining in concern from afar?

 

“I was taking the dogs out for the night. It’s late, almost two in the morning. We’re home.”

 

Aleks takes James’ left hand in his own and pulls it up for the older man to see. An identical set of wedding rings gleam under the full moon above them.

 

James’ eyes water and he lurches for Aleks, enveloping him in a tight embrace as he lets out a dry sob into his shoulder.

 

“We got married two years ago, remember? Moved down south from L.A. to a quiet town and bought our ranch house with acres for our big backyard and our dogs.” Aleks says into James’ neck, shifting closer as James grips him tight. “We argued about who would carry who through the door for good luck, remember?”

 

James nods. They ended up carrying all the dogs and cats through the door together instead.

 

They’re silent for a few beats before James adjusts his head on Aleks’ shoulder.

 

“In the dream, I couldn’t get to you in time.” He confesses and closes his eyes briefly, images flashing across his lids of a pale and lifeless Aleks laying on a bloody surgery table. “You fucking. . . _bled out_ too much and I didn’t get to say goodbye and I was covered it in, your _blood_ , all over-”

 

Aleks cradles both hands up against James’ jaw and cheeks, a thumb swiping over the dried trail of tears on his face, “That was five fucking years ago, James. _I’m here now_ , that’s all that matters.”

 

He kisses him, not passionately like they were pressed together as one on their wedding night in Palm Springs, but slowly. Slides his lips against his own in familiarity and silent reassurance he’s stable and _alive_. When he pulls away, James chases after him and Aleks lets out a full laugh as he reaches out to push some strands of hair from his eyes.

 

“I have my last day of therapy tomorrow, remember?” Aleks says, turning then to walk shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, back to the house.

 

“And I’ll be there, right next to you, remember?” 

 

The dogs follow them back into the house, the cats greet them, albeit hesitantly from James’ commotion, and they both slip into the shower to wash off the dust and sweat from each other. They exit the bathroom tired and warm, but take the time to settle into bed facing each other as they listen to the soothing quiet of the desert around them.

 

James has the occasional nightmare after that, of losing Aleks in his arms on the bloody sidewalk or walking into an empty, dark house alone with blood all over him, but they subside as time goes on.

 

Aleks has his own nightmares, in a way, but they never occur when he closes his eyes.

 

They're with him when he's living his life; when his eyes are wide open. They used to follow him around when he walked outside to take the trash out at James’ house after he moved in with him. They used to be his shadow when he walked the dogs around a park alone at dusk. His fears were in the little things, in strangers coming up to him unexpectedly and the sharpness of kitchen knives, not in the form of his unconsciousness.

 

Aleks still has the occasional phantom pain somewhere deep in his body where he can’t reach, but James is always there to distract him from the sensation with his understanding eyes and callused hands.

 

And with their friends, family, and outside support, they slowly heal one step at a time. They never rush or push each other with their recovery.

 

They work through it together, as they always have with every trial they’ve encountered.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so you made it to the end. I hope I didn't hurt you _too much_. Please don't think I want **any** of this violence to actually happen to anyone. It's just fiction. 
> 
> Circling back to the ending I wrote, I really didn't want to address Cow Chop and the business aspect during their recovery. I didn't want to make it about what we, as fans, thought or how we reacted to the news or what we did after Aleks returned alive. I wanted to make it up to interpretation as to whether or not James and Aleks _actually continued_ Cow Chop or not after this whole ordeal. Would you, if you were in their position, continue on as if nothing happened? They could still do Cow Chop from a different location in another warehouse somewhere or they could've retired. This was really inspired by Aleks' vocalized fear he expresses about how much crime there is in L.A. from CCTV/etc. I know it's a little unrealistic idea for Aleks to be walking around city streets at night with how paranoid he is about that sort of thing, but I ran with it. 
> 
> This was just really a vent mechanism for me. I've been feeling. . . off, recently. With college and making life decisions and relationships and self-confidence issues, I've just been drowning in all these feelings with growing up. I think this fic, while dark and violent, has a healing undertone to it that I wish I had in my life right now. I'm rambling, but it's true. 
> 
> If you read all of this, thank you. I hope you enjoyed and leave a little comment down below about what you thought about it. If you had a favorite part? Favorite line? If anything felt out of place/out of character? If you liked the way I wrote novahd's relationship? If you didn't? 
> 
> Send me a message too on my tumblr, if you'd like: [tropicalaleks](https://tropicalaleks.tumblr.com/)


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